Treasure Island

Edgar Lee Masters

(23 August 1868 – 5 March 1950 / Kansas / United States)

America In 1904


(Europe Conquers America.)

Strong for the strong and in his own conceit;
Half-boy, half-madman, playing with the fire;
Usurper, hoodlum, wed to his desire;
Loud in the hunt--afraid albeit to beat
The wolves which reared him--always with swift feet,
Booted and spurred to huddle in the mire
The malcontents, though Freedom die--no higher
Launching his truncheon; only to the street
Thundering at millionaires; unlearned, though read,
In human agony--surrendered up
To glory, war--of empty pomp the chief--
Europa, thou hast conquered! with bowed head
For Freedom slain (who prayed might pass the cup)
We pray, in faith, thy triumph may be brief!

Submitted: Friday, April 09, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (America In 1904 by Edgar Lee Masters )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Found Out, Edgar Albert Guest
  2. The Killing Place, Edgar Albert Guest
  3. The Bank Clerk, Edgar Albert Guest
  4. If I Were Santa Claus, Edgar Albert Guest
  5. Man And Lathe, Edgar Albert Guest
  6. Fishing Reasons, Edgar Albert Guest
  7. The Gentle Hand Of Women Folks, Edgar Albert Guest
  8. The Disgrace Of Poverty, Edgar Albert Guest
  9. Neil Snow, Edgar Albert Guest
  10. The Limit, Edgar Albert Guest

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Lawson


The old year went, and the new returned, in the withering weeks of drought,
The cheque was spent that the shearer earned,
and the sheds were all cut out;
...... Read complete »

   

Member Poem

[Hata Bildir]